Saturday, March 15, 2014

Meet Apollo, a dog who will melt the Grinchiest of hearts

During our visit to St. Lucia last week, we had a chance to chat with a lot of people from around the world (mostly Canada, the U.S. and the U.K.)

Patti and Gene did many dives with us, and we shared stories at lunch one day. Patti had an up close and personal visit with a giant octopus on the west coast of Canada. They are the largest on earth, some of them 20+ feet long, and weighing in at 150 lbs. (See HERE) (Lisa, I double dog dare you to look.)

Patti said the top of its tentacle was as big as a man's arm, and after she and her fellow divers peered closely at it and gave it some gentle nudges, it decided to check her out but wrapping one of those meaty tentacles around her arm all the way up to her shoulder. It was intense, but she said she never felt threatened, only that it was curious. It eventually uncoiled itself and calmly swam off without any ink involved. Because they are as intelligent as dolphins, Patti can no longer eat calamari. (I have no such qualms, although I get it, because I refuse to eat horse, which is common here in Montreal. It was difficult sitting across the table from someone who was eating horse, quite frankly. I was grossed out. Not sure about what I'd do if offered seahorse on a cracker. But I digress.)

The subject of dogs came up and of course, we all became animated and had more stories to tell. Patti's was one of the most heartwarming, and she allowed me to share it, and some photos, here.

Apollo is their 130 lb Great Pyrenees they inherited at 10 weeks old after another family gave him up. He has a condition called "mega-esophagus." This means he is unable to eat like a regular dog. Food can't move through his esophagus because of this muscle or nerve defect. If forced to eat from a bowl on the floor, the food would not make its way down to the stomach, but instead, collect in his chest cavity. At a certain point, he would just throw it all up, and if not treated, he would certainly die.

So, treatment? I asked. Surgery? Nope. It's incurable.

The only thing that can be done is to either have the dog stand on its hind legs, and keep it upright for upwards of 30 minutes so the food can move down to the stomach, or...

...put the dog in a doggie high chair.

Apollo has his own, custom made highchair. When he's ready to eat, Patti and Gene gently place Apollo on his bum in the chair, arranging his tail underneath him. When Apollo wiggles into place and when he is comfortable, he lifts a paw in the air to signal he's ready for the tray to be lowered, and meal time to commence!

I didn't believe it, so Patti showed me photos and I thought my heart would melt on the spot. She agreed to let me post them.
Prepare to be swept away on a sea of dog love. Seriously, this is the cutest thing I've ever seen.

Oh, Pam! How awesome is that. I'm crying. I had a dog with the same condition years and years ago and at the time, the only option I was given was euthanasia. It just broke my heart, but at the time, I don't believe they understood the condition enough.

And I'm with you. I can't stand the thought of anyone eating horse. My father had four horses and a mule and I loved them all equally. The thought of eating one is appalling.

About Me

A Novel Woman, AKA Pamela Patchet, was unwittingly born and raised in Toronto instead of Paris. She worked her way from A&W carhop to political advisor to advertising executive where, on any given day, she was called upon to soothe disgruntled clients, cajole temperamental artists, juggle multi-million dollar budgets or locate trained penguins for television commercials. She married a handsome dentist for love and a lifetime of free dental care, raised three kids, and established a freelance writing career, not unlike her earlier jobs, minus the penguins.